


a beautiful sight (we're happy tonight)

by lyricalprose (fairylights)



Series: 2013 Fic Advent Calendar [10]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 2013 Fic Advent Calendar, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairylights/pseuds/lyricalprose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So why d–don’t you like it?” Lee asks, about a half an hour later. He’s skating backwards in front of her, with his arms held loosely out in front of him, in case Donna needs someone to grab onto while she navigates the perils of the ice-skating rink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a beautiful sight (we're happy tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helplesslynerdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helplesslynerdy/gifts).



> [helplesslynerdy](http://helplesslynerdy.tumblr.com) asked “Donna x Lee, sequel to [vertigo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/864261). First Christmas together.”
> 
> Fill #10 for my [2013 fic advent calendar](http://lyricalprose.tumblr.com/tagged/2013-fic-advent-calendar).

“I’m n–not sure that I understand,” Lee says slowly, his neck craned backwards as he peers upwards at one hundred feet of densely decorated spruce fir. “What’s it _for?_ ”  
  
Donna shivers and tugs at her scarf, wrapping it a bit tighter around her neck. “I’ve been asking that question about Christmas trees for years, and no one’s ever given me a good answer.”  
  
The Doctor, who is standing hand-in-hand with Rose a bit closer to the tree, whips around to gape at them with a scandalized expression. “You, Donna Noble, are a _Grinch._ ” He points one accusing finger in her direction. “Ebenezer Noble. Donna Scrooge. Next thing we know you’ll be shutting yourself up in the TARDIS and shouting ‘bah humbug’ at all and sundry.”  
  
“You _know_ I hate Christmas, Spaceman,” Donna says dryly.   
“But it’s the _Rockefeller Center_ Christmas tree, Donna! The _1999_ Rockefeller Center Christmas tree! Tallest one on record – _well,_ tallest _real_ one on record, they switched over to those rubbish genetically engineered hybrids in 2023. Sure, they get _massive,_ but they never really _smell_ like a Christmas tree, and they shed these weird little micro-needles–”  
  
“I’m still n–not sure what this is all about,” Lee murmurs plaintively, sounding quite aware that no one is listening to a word he says.  
  
Donna sighs and pats him on the arm.  
  
—-  
  
“So why d–don’t you like it?” Lee asks, about a half an hour later. He’s skating backwards in front of her, with his arms held loosely out in front of him, in case Donna needs someone to grab onto while she navigates the perils of the ice-skating rink. _Grew up on Fraxia Seven,_ he says. _Can’t get by without learning to skate on an ice planet,_ he says.  
  
Bloody show-off, Donna says.  
  
“Like what?” she grits out, gingerly skating forward. When Rose glides past Lee on her own skates – she’d been an enthusiast as a child, apparently – Donna glowers at her. She and Lee make it look so bloody _easy._  
  
It’s at least a comfort –Donna might even go so far as to call it a _delight_ – that the Doctor is just as bad at skating as she is. He clearly hadn’t expected to be rubbish at it; he’d been the one who’d suggested the skating in the first place, loudly declaring that ice skating was brilliant and he hadn’t done it in centuries. Then once he’d gotten onto the ice Rose had promptly left him in the dust while he wobbled on his skates in a very undignified fashion, fussing and moaning about how this body couldn’t remember how to skate.  
  
“Christmas,” Lee says, shoving one hand in his pockets as her forward motion gets a bit steadier. “N–not that I really k–know what it is, but it seems–” He waves his free hand around at the veritable explosion of Christmas spirit that is Rockefeller Center in December. “Like a b–b–big deal.”  
  
“Yeah. Guess we didn’t have Christmas back then, did we?”  
  
 _Back Then_ is sort of a silly way to refer to the Library years, but it’s all they have.  
  
There are some details that are indelibly marked into Donna’s brain, things that seem as real as anything in the physical world ever has – like the way Lee’s cold toes felt against her legs in bed, or the way he took his tea every morning, or the way he looked at their children, all soft and sweet and awed. And then there are parts that are eternally fuzzy, grey and indistinct in a way that makes her wonder how she ever could’ve believed any of it was actually happening. Like the fact that she can’t remember ever cooking a single meal (she’s always hated cooking), or the way that they never seemed to celebrate any holidays, even though the years kept ticking by (they don’t keep any of the same holidays; the computer hadn’t known how to reconcile that).  
  
It’s still a bit jarring, now and again, to be reminded that Lee isn’t from her time, or her planet.  
  
“Guess not,” Lee says, and he sounds a bit glum, the way he always does whenever they talk about Back Then.  
  
“Come on,” Donna says, more cheerful than she really feels. “You must’ve had something like Christmas. Big winter holiday? Presents and family and all that rot?”  
  
Lee pauses, considering. “We have the F–festival of the S–seven Sacred S–saints, on Fraxia,” he says thoughtfully. “And of c–course there’s C–Church holidays, but I never enlisted, so–” Lee shrugs. “Not the same kind of p–pomp and circumstance as this.”  
  
He narrows his eyes at her then, just the slightest bit. “Y–y–y–” He gets stuck on the _y,_ for a moment, and Donna feels a surge of fondness as he screws his face up in concentration, willing the vowel to come along.  
  
Eventually, he manages it. “You didn’t answer m–my question,” he says seriously.  
  
“I dunno,” Donna says, as they gently round the corner of the rink, Rose gliding past them and grinning once again. “There’s fun parts, I guess. Parties with your mates down the pub, and crackers and things.” A lock of hair slips out of her hat and into her eyes, and she reaches up to tuck it away. “But when I was a kid it was always Mum and Dad fightin’ with each other, and aunts and uncles pinching my cheeks, and it all just seemed like a lot of fuss and bother for nothing.”  
  
“Plus,” she adds, after a bit of thought, “I did get left at the altar for a giant spider on Christmas. Puts you off, a bit.”  
  
Lee’s answering smile is wide and bright. “I can p–promise I won’t d–do that, if it helps.”  
  
Donna’s heart speeds up a little in her chest. They don’t talk about the future, not a lot, because that means bringing up the past. They’re still new and this life’s still mad and they know each other better than anyone else in the world, except for how they don’t know each other at all.  
  
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, and Lee’s smile goes even wider.  
  
“Oi!” The sound of shouting – though not shouting directed at _her,_ for once – distracts them both. “Cut it out, there’s kids here!”  
  
“Oh, brother,” Donna mutters, and rolls her eyes. The Doctor and Rose are snogging each other’s brains out just across the rink, going at it with gusto even though it looks like the Doctor’s about to fall over any moment. A scandalized-looking woman in a blue fluffy overcoat is giving them scathing looks, but neither seems to be paying her any mind.  
  
“We’re g–going to get k–kicked off the rink, aren’t we?” Lee sighs, with the learned resignation familiar to anyone who has been traveling with the Doctor for any significant amount of time.  
  
“Probably.” Donna nods and turns to him. Grinning, she inches forward on her skates, winds her arms around his neck, and tugs his face down to hers. “Might as well make the most of it,” she murmurs, and Lee smiles into her lips.


End file.
